How Many Angels Can Dance
by MegTDJ
Summary: Sam gets some resolution. On the Head of a Pin episode tag.


How Many Angels Can Dance...

Sam wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but soon he was having that dream again. He had Lilith by the throat and was inflicting as much pain as possible as he used his powers to tear her apart.

Only this time, it wasn't just Lilith. Castiel and Uriel were there, too.

Sam dropped Lilith in a crumpled heap and headed toward the angels. "It's your fault," he growled, raising his hand to throw them against the wall. "You forced Dean into that room, and you just stood back and watched him die!"

"No," Castiel croaked. "Sam..."

"I should have listened to the things Ruby said about you," Sam said as he clenched his fist to squeeze Castiel's throat.

"Sam... Sam!"

Sam jerked awake as a hand gripped his shoulder. It took him a second to remember where he was, but as soon as he saw that he was leaning on Dean's hospital bed, it all came back.

He didn't even need to turn around to know that the hand still resting on his shoulder belonged to Castiel. That creepy-crawly sensation in his blood whenever angels were near was unmistakable. It only grew stronger every time he... fed.

"Cas," he said, rubbing his eyes. "You scared the hell out of me."

Castiel finally lifted his hand from Sam's shoulder and moved to stand beside him. "I apologize," he said. "What were you dreaming about?"

Sam glanced up at him warily. He got the distinct impression from Castiel's casual-yet-knowing tone that he knew exactly what Sam had been dreaming about. He decided it would be safest not to answer. "What are you doing here?" he asked, turning his attention back to Dean as he tried to fight past the guilt he felt over his subconscious fantasy. "Did you find your answer?"

Castiel sighed softly. "You were right," he said. "It wasn't the demons."

Sam looked up at him again, suddenly curious. "Who was it?"

"It was Uriel."

Sam blinked in confusion as he tried to process Castiel's reply. "Uriel? Why would he be killing angels?" he asked.

"He'd traded allegiances," Castiel answered, his voice so stiff and controlled it was almost monotone. "He was killing all those who didn't follow his lead."

Sam paused for a moment as these words sank in. "Wait... was? Is he..."

"Dead. Yes."

Sam felt a pang of sympathy when he heard the sorrow in Castiel's voice. He hadn't noticed before, but even the angel's body language showed signs of grief and weariness. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that Castiel was actually feeling emotion. "I'm sorry," he said, truly meaning it. If angels thought of themselves as brothers and sisters... he couldn't even imagine how he would feel if he was in Castiel's place. "Was it... you?" he asked hesitantly.

Castiel shook his head slightly, but didn't offer any more information than that. Sam figured that was just as well. He wasn't sure that he really wanted to know how treasonous angels were punished for their crimes... or by whom.

Moments passed before Castiel spoke again. "How is he?" he asked.

Sam took in a deep breath. "He's breathing on his own, finally," he said. "He almost seemed to wake up for a second a few hours ago, but he was pretty unresponsive. The doctor said he's likely to have permanent brain damage." He looked up at Castiel with a pointed glare. He wasn't going to ask twice for a miracle, but that didn't mean he couldn't lay a guilt trip.

Castiel ignored the glare and nodded slowly. "When I told you before that I couldn't heal him," he said, walking slowly around to the other side of the bed, "it was only because I thought that Alastair breaking free was the will of God." He paused for a long moment, looking pensively down at Dean as though inwardly weighing the pros and cons of what he should do. "Uriel's will was not God's," he finally said.

Sam felt a spark of hope as Castiel laid his hand on Dean's forehead. He leaned forward in his seat, watching for a heavenly glow or magically-disappearing wounds... but there was nothing. He looked at the monitors over Dean's bed... no change.

A second later, Castiel removed his hand from Dean's forehead looking vaguely satisfied. Sam was more confused than ever.

"That's it?" he said. "Nothing happened."

Castiel drew a chair closer to Dean's bedside and sat down, taking a moment to adjust his trench coat before responding. "I've temporarily increased his body's ability to heal itself," he said. "It may take a few days, but he will make a full recovery."

Sam scoffed and leaned back heavily in his chair. "Right. Wouldn't want word to get out that there are angels walking around who can heal people with a touch of their hand," he said with more than a trace of bitterness in his tone.

Castiel gave him his patented angel-glare before turning his gaze back onto Dean. "You should get some rest, Sam," he said. "I'll stay until he awakens."

Sam felt like arguing the point at first, but he realized it would be futile. Angels had been doing their thing for thousands of years, so they weren't likely to change their M.O. now. Plus, he was tired. So very, very tired. The high he'd initially felt from Ruby's blood had started to fade hours ago. He felt like he could sleep for a week.

After one last worried glance at Dean, he pushed his chair back against the wall, folded his arms across his chest, and stretched his legs out. "Fine. Let me know if anything changes," he said, his words already slurred as he began to fall asleep.

His dreams were different this time. No demons, no angels – just him and Dean on the road, the way things used to be. He'd never thought at the time that he would come to miss those days, but even as he dreamed, his heart was aching for it.

_"Bull!"_

Dean's angry voice pulled him halfway out of his sleeping state, but for a while it felt like Sam was still dreaming. Wasn't Dean unconscious?

_"I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know... our fate rests with you."_

Sam woke up completely when he recognized Castiel's voice, but he didn't move a muscle as he eavesdropped on the conversation. What the hell was Cas talking about?

_"Well, then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not strong... I'm not strong enough."_

Sam felt a wave of guilt wash over him when he remembered describing Dean to Ruby in almost those exact words. But it was true – Dean wasn't himself anymore. How could he be, after everything he'd been through in hell? Sam had been trying for weeks to protect him, to shield him from the things he couldn't handle, but how could he do that when the angels came along and just dragged Dean off to the middle of nowhere with no warning? He hadn't been fast enough in getting to him, and he blamed himself for that... but the anger he'd felt against the angels for allowing this to happen in the first place was still there, no matter how hard Castiel was trying to make up for it now.

_"Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be."_

Sam winced at the mention of John. He should have known that Dean was still carrying around those regrets and insecurities.

_"Find someone else. It's not me."_

Find someone else for what, Sam wondered. He stayed perfectly still, waiting for the conversation to continue and hopefully provide him with some answers, but there was just dead silence.

After a minute or two, Sam feigned waking up, stretching his arms and legs and yawning. "Dean," he said, acting surprised to see him conscious. "Welcome back."

Dean swiped a hand across his face, a feeble attempt to hide that he'd been crying. "How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"Just this second," Sam said as he dragged his chair back to Dean's bedside. "What about you?"

"A while," Dean said. "Doc's been in here and everything. You were out like a light."

"Yeah, well... it's been a long couple of days," Sam said, his gaze flickering over to Castiel for a moment to shoot him a significant glare. "It's good to have you back, Dean."

Dean just grunted and stared off into space. Even if Sam hadn't overheard half of his conversation with Castiel, he would have known something was weighing heavily on his mind.

Castiel rose to his feet during the awkward silence that followed. "I'll leave you two alone," he said. "We'll talk again later, Dean."

"Yeah, don't count on it."

Sam cringed at the tone of despair in Dean's voice. From the expression on Castiel's face, Sam could have sworn he was cringing on the inside, too.

"Cas," Sam said quickly, before Castiel had a chance to disappear or Sam had a chance to change his mind. "Thank you."

He didn't know why he'd said it. He'd had every intention of holding his grudge for as long as he could, but when he thought about Uriel's betrayal and Cas bending the rules to heal Dean, he couldn't let it go unsaid.

Castiel seemed to understand. He gave Sam a slight nod before disappearing with a flutter of invisible wings.

Once he was sure the angel was gone, Sam cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. "So..."

"How much did you hear?"

Sam puffed out his cheeks and cocked his head as he cut himself off mid-sentence. He'd thought he'd been convincing in his lie, but Dean often did see right through him. He considered covering with another lie, but he knew that would just amplify Dean's low spirits. Besides, how else was he going to find out what they'd been talking about? "I... heard Cas say that our fate rests with you," he said slowly and carefully. "What did he mean by that?"

Dean swallowed convulsively, as though fighting back panic or anger or even both. "It's my fault, Sam," he said.

"What's your fault?"

"Everything. The seals, the apocalypse... all of it."

Sam could tell by the gravity and pain in his voice that Dean wasn't exaggerating or fooling around. He really believed what he was saying. "But how..."

"And Cas says it's up to me to stop it."

Sam bristled at this revelation. Dean? Stop the apocalypse? By himself? Now Sam understood why he'd told Castiel that he wasn't strong enough. Even Sam wasn't strong enough for that... yet. "Why you?" he asked.

"When I was in hell... and I started torturing souls..." Dean shook his head wearily. "I broke the first seal, Sam. It's all on me. Some prophecy about a righteous man shedding blood in hell. I don't know. I mean, how does that even make sense? In what reality could I possibly be considered righteous?"

Sam's heart broke at the pleading look Dean was giving him. He wished he had the answers, or at least some way of making things better. He had no clue what to say.

"Anyway, I told Cas to find someone else," Dean said, his voice sounding weaker by the minute. "I'm sick of this whole damn business."

"You can't just give up, Dean."

"Why the hell not?"

Sam looked down at his hands, knowing that he didn't have a good enough answer for that question. "Maybe..." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Maybe he didn't mean that you'll be doing it alone," he said, making sure to give his best look of determination as he made eye contact with Dean. "'Cause you know I'll be right there with you all the way."

Dean held his gaze for a few seconds before looking off into space again. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."

The End


End file.
